


Three is a Crowd

by shirogiku



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anne Misses Max, Fuck You Jack, Gen, Nobody Takes Blackbeard Seriously, Post-Season/Series 03, Silver Is Collecting Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a conversation around the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three is a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xJuniperx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJuniperx/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [xJuniperx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJuniperx/pseuds/xJuniperx) in the [pirate_prompts_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pirate_prompts_2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Sorry, this prompt is extremely vague. But I need more Jack Rackham in fic. I just do! And after Silver & Jack's brief interaction in the finale, I realized that they have barely ever interacted in the show and I NEED IT. I'd love to read something where Silver and Jack have to, like, talk their way out of a situation and work together with their cleverness and charm to accomplish something. Or, I could even see their interactions being antagonistic as they try to outsmart or out-talk each other. But I can just see a back-and-forth dialog between them being so amazing. Just a wistful Black Sails wish, lol.
> 
>  **A/N:** It doesn't have action, OP, focusing on the back-and-forth instead, I hope it's fine :)

By itself, the lack of taverns was never a great obstacle to a pirate bacchanal. The men’s mood was ripe for heavy drinking: a lot to burn off and yet more to drown out. Flint had neither interest nor inclination, so the job of organising it fell to the least likely suspect in Silver’s book: Teach. It would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so bloody irritating. The Queen did not bother beyond reinforcing the bans on any and all outsiders who were not indispensable to the war effort.

 

For a moment there, Silver had been convinced that Blackbeard had taken his Carolina women with him into battle.

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Flint had warned him, unconvinced by his carefully blank look. “Don’t engage him, Silver. Your skills are better employed elsewhere.”

 

‘Are you afraid of him?’ was dancing on the tip of Silver’s tongue. One of these days, there might just be a rematch: Teach and Flint both were prouder than the devil himself, and with tempers to match.

 

“I do have more pressing matters to attend to,” Silver assured him. “And if I need to speak to the man, Jack will liaise.”

 

Flint narrowed his eyes. “Ah.”

 

Was that a coded message or had the Captain run out of warnings already?

 

A smile was lurking in the corners of Flint’s mouth. “Rackham _is_ a worthy sparring partner for you. Provided you don’t bother Anne Bonny, of course.”

 

“If you were to make a bet, between Jack and I, where would you wager?”

 

Flint stepped closer, as if he were about to impart more profound advice. “It depends.” He simply walked on, damn him. “I hear Rackham likes to read.”

 

Well now! And Silver was an illiterate lout?

 

Jack Rackham and his partner were in no haste to mingle, keeping themselves to themselves. Fading into the background was the essence of a good people-watcher. However, not even they could escape being watched in return around here.

 

A handsome Maroon woman was weaving beads into Bonny’s hair, quite immune to her glares. Rackham looked troubled, though not on her account.

 

“It will only get heavier,” said Silver, sitting down at their fire with a bottle of rum as a friendly offering.

 

“What did I tell you?” Jack gestured at the beads. “Look at the _size_ of them!”

 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Bonny groused. “I like ‘em.” She scooped up another bunch from the bowl, turquoise-blue.

 

“Well, don’t blame _me_ if your head falls off.”

 

Anne demonstratively turned away from him, though still within a stabbing distance should Silver try something funny.

 

Rackham shook his head. “What’s next, war paint? Actually, darling, you would look _marvellous_.” He glanced at Silver for a second opinion. “Wouldn’t she just?”

 

Silver smiled a little, mouthing, “I meant Charles Vane’s mantle and legacy.”

 

There had been no proper prelude to this conversation; the two of them had scarcely exchanged a word outside of strategy meetings. But things had been set in motion, and making the first move here was a tactical advantage.

 

Bonny glared at Silver. Startled, Rackham eyed him speculatively, trying to gauge the meaning-behind-the-meaning. “Mantles and legacies are all the rage this season. Now that’s a fashion statement for you.”

 

In Vane’s case, it came with no frills or ruffles. “I’m not here to ask about the chafing.” He was consistently being mobbed by everybody’s grief. “I am here to talk about stories. Charles Vane has beat us all to the finish line, and, in his new form, he continues being part of this.”

 

Jack cocked his head to the side. “And whose ghost is riding on _your_ shoulders?”

 

“Please, there are more than one. All of them Flint’s.”

 

Rackham uncorked the bottle. “How delightfully morbid! Isn’t that like burying a man alive?”

 

Not what he had had in mind. “My captain has died many deaths, so it is only fitting that he should have many ghosts.”

 

Anne’s head jerked. “The fuck is he on about?” Silver prided himself in deciphering everybody’s speech, but Bonny certainly didn’t make it easy for him.

 

“Life, death, and everything in-between.” Rackham drank up. “You hate that sort of philosophising.”

 

“Damn right I do.” Anne snatched the bottle from him. “When they talk like that, they usually want something.” Her look alone could cut up a man into bloody ribbons.

 

“You’re absolutely right,” Silver agreed. “In truth, I am after a book review.” He had borrowed the thing with the express promise to bring back some new insight.

  
Jack groaned. “Not _again_!” He patted down his clothing as if some nasty bug had just dropped down on him. “Open the wrong book once, and it won’t bloody stop following you around!”

 

“That shit is stuck to you now,” Anne confirmed.

 

The Maroon woman ran her fingers along Anne’s new plaits, the colourful beads knocking together. Far from violence, it very nearly brought a smile to Bonny’s face. Rackham conceded that the end result was rather nice.

 

“I would pay to know how your secret of dealing with the Maroons,” Jack whispered to Silver.

 

“Really? How much?” Out of that buried treasure, too?

 

Jack snorted. “Nice try.”

 

If a poisonous insect or a snake did attack Jack, Anne would rescue him without a moment’s thought. The ease between them, the understanding that ran so much deeper than words fascinated Silver. There was a lot to learn from a partnership like that.

 

“So. Rogers,” he prompted as soon as the beads woman was gone. “You have taken your measure of him, I assume. What is _his_ secret?”

 

“Why don’t you ask your captain?”

 

“What makes you think I haven’t already? That being said, the cracks that one _unwittingly_ shows to a man who tends to be underestimated, now these are a different story.” He, of all people, would know the value of that.

 

“Well… he isn’t afraid to split his knuckles.” Rackham winced at the memory. “Anger issues, how very original. Of the kind that would get him kicked out of a fancy dinner-party.”

 

Silver leaned forward. “We could use that.” The Governor losing his temper before a mob, exposing himself for another tyrant that he was, the latest in the long line.

 

“Also, he honestly thinks that individual bad luck outweighs privilege and birthright,” Jack added peevishly.

 

Silver coaxed him into recounting the entire carriage chase, something which Flint had neglected to do.

 

“One could admire Miss Guthrie’s resourcefulness,” at the risk of being gutted. “Deposed and shipped off to England like a common thief, she returns as the chief and most trusted political advisor. Not quite the throne yet, but much better than the gallows. There is a point to this, I promise.” He talked on: “The keys to Nassau are once again in her hands. The direct assault is all good and well, but shouldn’t we consider _all_ angles? Such as severing the ties between her and the Governor?”

 

“They’re fucking,” Bonny cut in with a grimace. “For fuck’s sake, it’s like offering yourself up to a _jailer_.”

 

Like they say, politics makes strange bedfellows. “Faced with a choice between her and Nassau, he would always choose Nassau, wouldn’t you say?” Silver smiled at Jack and Anne. “Wouldn’t that role reversal suit you better than mere murder?”

 

Bonny saw nothing wrong with Plan A.

 

Rackham, though, appeared to be intrigued. “You _are_ forgetting one key player, Mr. Silver. Nassau isn’t ruled by a king and queen, but a triumvirate.”

 

“Jack!” Anne snapped. “Keep your big mouth shut!”

 

“Max.” Of course. He could guess at her motives - gold, but stability before gold, recognition, but at what cost? “I would say she is on her own side, but-”

 

“Leave her out of this,” Anne hissed. “She just wants to be left alone!”

 

Rackham placed a soothing hand on Bonny’s arm. With a slowness reminiscent of Flint’s darker moments, she settled down.

 

Silver swallowed nervously. “Why don’t we talk about everyone’s favourite polygamist instead? The first Blackbeard I’ve ever met was truly unforgettable.” The _Walrus’s_ best kept secret wasn’t Flint’s past - it was who the _fuck_ had started the fine tradition. “I’m sorry to say, I’ve lost track of the lady, but she would have made a perfect… hundredth wife, is it?”

 

Rackham laughed and proposed a toast to matches made in hell. Anne and her beads finally stalked off. Not that Silver didn’t appreciate her company - he really did - but he could neither charm her nor use her fears to gain her confidence.

 

“Speaking of useful connections,” Jack whispered confidentially. “Do you, by any chance, happen to know a good musician around here? Don’t ask why.”


End file.
